


My Memories Are Bullets, Label Me a Killer

by flowersforlukey



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Luke is a killer, M/M, Violence, nobody really dies, so is michael, they knew each other since highschool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6553906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforlukey/pseuds/flowersforlukey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want your body." Michael breathes out raspily and Luke's sure that he's been alarmed before anything else happens. However, Michael is smart enough, or somewhat, quite perceptive that he decides to duck his head again to press his lips against the shell of Luke's ear.</p><p>In an incredulously swift movement Luke pulls out the pistol from where it was hidden behind his back and points it at Michael's chest without him knowing about the piece of bronze pressed onto his body.</p><p>Maybe he didn't want those things. Maybe he really didn't. So he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger, not anymore caring of what the world would have against him after he's done all of this.</p><p>He missed.</p><p>Luke is a killer and meets Michael once again, the person who he was with on the night during his first kill. There's anger and betrayal, guns pointing at each other, and probably a few kisses shared. Remembering the memories with him probably changed his whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Memories Are Bullets, Label Me a Killer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first time posting on this site, but I'm very excited to throw you all a shitload of my muke works. Hope you enjoy this one! :)
> 
> The title is just from a quote I got from tumblr.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_"_ _Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces." ― Richard Kadrey, Kill the Dead_

 

 

 Luke Hemmings.

The pads of his boots rub against the tiled floor as he saunters towards the warehouse's main entrance. The door opens freely before him and he starts walking inside, the hallow walls plastered around his surroundings making him grow even more anxious every second he takes a good step onto the ground. 

He lets out a sigh of exasperation when he remembers the events that had happened on the crack of dawn this morning — Calum ringing him until he woke up to the intense noises his phone was making and the loud berate he got from him when he finally answered the call. 

He's sure they just need him for a purpose. 

  
He turns around a corner and allows the mirrors hanging on the walls capture his reflection. He casts a glance towards the glass and sees himself covered in all-black clothing, the straight ends of his blonde hair in contrast with the dark bags under his eyes. With that, it makes him think how much time he has spent to get used to the leather he's been wearing, or maybe how he's started to pull triggers twice as much as he had before. He is, in fact, a professional killer. And he knows very well that he's not destined to change because he was born to be like this.

 

 

He doesn't want to change, not even for one bit.

 "What did you call me for?" Luke asks to no one in particular the moment he steps inside the room. He's obviously still irritated at Calum's constant pestering and he's not at all in the mood of greeting someone with an overly-exaggerated smile in the middle of morning. 

 "Well, hello to you too," says the broad man seated on a wooden chair across the room. There's a pistol held loosely in his grasp where his fingers are absentmindedly rubbing against the smooth surface and a large shawl that's thrown over his slumped shoulders. Ashton looks up from the piece of bronze resting in his hands and captures Luke's eyes. 

 "I thought Calum asked for me," Luke counters as he looks around in hopes of finding the tall brunette who has been hollering at him through the phone this morning.

 "I thought so too," Ashton answers all of a sudden and Luke quickly averts his eyes to the man who has a grin playing on his lips. It makes shivers run up his spine as the anxiety starts kicking in and the desire of wanting to know what he meant by that wraps his mind in fogs of steam that lead him to complete nothingness, thus, making his vision seem blurry.

 "What are you saying?" the blonde questions a little too quickly, voice shaky and uncertain. 

 "What _I'm_ saying is that, Calum has been threatened to foresee any consequences that may occur once you encounter your next casualty." Ashton grits his teeth; the words escaping his mouth are bold as some are quite unspoken. He trails his eyes over the broad shape of Luke's body and gives him a look of derision — something that the blonde couldn't read which only caused his mind's obstruction. 

 Luke heaves out a sigh of defeat and asks a little too despondently, "does that mean I have to kill him, or whoever my victim may be?" 

 Ashton nods, seeming utterly responsive. "I'm afraid so, Hemmings." 

 Luke emits another sigh, this time of exasperation and throws his hand into the air, signaling his conspicuous defeat. The thought of being sent into another establishment to finally be able to nudge a gun in front of someone above suspicion thrills him, to say the least, but Luke has also endured more than enough cases already that he's somewhat lost track of time of all the people he has executed. 

 And it's not like he's complaining, though. He never complains. He would just get a hold of one of the many opportunities in putting an end to someone's life in replacement of something they've all once desired. 

 And he thinks that maybe, he could probably get something great out of the crimes he has been committing for the past seven years of his life. Despite all the failed arresting attempts of cops and the abrupt escapes of his victims whom had failed miserably, he still has the furtherance of a successful murder that Calum is expected to foresee, now that he's being sent into the disused apartment near the city of Brooklyn to once again do what he's ought to do in this mad, mad world. 

 He just has to kill, kill, and _kill_.

***

In his severe apprehension he pushes the blonde locks of his hair away from the expanse of his forehead; trails of pure sweat slowly trickle down his face in their own wake as he struggles to get a hold of the heavy piece of bronze clutched tightly in his grasp. 

  
His limbs tremble from the sudden coldness brought by the biting September wind, soft but heavy pants escaping his lips as he feels the intense chilliness sipping through his veins. Sounds of footsteps echo through the paper thin walls and his nervousness causes him to create a large pit in his stomach. He tries to shrug the feeling away, tries to ignore how chills are somehow being brought into his spine and the light behind the blood-stained drapes are blinding him at all costs but he fails unfortunately.

Although he thinks that it is quite unnecessary of him to latch his cautious footsteps onto the broad expanse of the tiled floor, or how he could visualize herself seeming like a deer caught in the headlights whenever he hears a sound, or a single shadow dancing against the plain white walls, he had been wanting to see whatever's been causing this turmoil just before they sent him in this facility.

His cerulean eyes absentmindedly cast a glance towards one particular corner in the room and he sees a silhouette, a dark figure hiding behind the tall wooden structures of the worn-out bookcase. The blonde takes a step closer toward the moving shadow and chews on his bottom lip as he fails an attempt to stop the uncontrollable quivering.

 He tugs on the _Beretta 92FS Brigadier_ in his hands and tightens his grasp around it. No, he isn't scared. He's done this countless of times and he's sure it's just another one of those vagabonds who were let loose by the officers securing their rusted town down the shadows of Brooklyn. He can't be like this.

The heavy thump of boots touching the floor jostles Luke in his spot, catching him completely off-guard as profanities and other combinations of mantras escape his lips on a whim. It's not like he's afraid of whatever's been hiding underneath its shadows, but he's constantly been in denial of this, and he just can't get himself to stop from shivering once goose bumps arise on his skin.

And yet, he refuses to give in. Maybe it's just an old vagabond and he's pretty much overreacting. Just maybe, he doesn't know.

 "Well, it looks like Ashton has sent in another lad of his, hasn't he? Wise bloke has chosen something so intriguing — envisaged something more mindful and pleasing in such a way I had not pondered onto before today."

 The sudden sound coming out from the hidden corner flies out raspy and smug that it becomes foreign to the screaming silence. It startles Luke, to say the least, and judging by the look of terror smeared across his facial features, it sure hadn't brought something better out of him from this.

 Instead, it makes him sprint towards the other side of the room where a wall is built to divide his corner (he figures it's a _he_ ) from his side, pulls the pistol that's clutched in his hands into his chest and keeps it close to the wall until it was fully being stretched out to point toward the direction of the source of the sound.

 A glass falls to the ground — he doesn't see it, but hears it. The screech is louder in his ears than his racing heart as the sound of boots rubbing against the tiles hangs heavily in the atmosphere.

 Luke closes his eyes and tries to keep breathing. He can do this. Calum was right — Luke's been loading guns and aiming targets since he was old enough to carry a 20-pound gun on his own. A pistol feels nice in his hand; there are times when he's weak, having shots aiming for something much different than intended, but when he's finally had a finger looping around the trigger, he's powerful and intense, every bullet aiming at every target. Thus, the world knows he's never missed.

 Never left a single target untouched and burnt down into damage, not even for once.

 "Who are you?" questions Luke, who has now detached himself from the wall to move further into the space the intruder has occupied. All of the sudden, the wind has run cold and the room turns impossibly darker, making it hard for him to make out and trace the shadows forming on the man's face. "I know you can hear me. Tell me, who _are_ you?"

 "Who _am_ I isn't actually a question you've learnt to answer, have you, Luke?" the man spoke back, and if it wasn't that hard to believe, he recognizes that voice. He recognizes it, remembers it too well that he swears it hurt in his head for a split second. "Perhaps you could give yourself some time to progress everything that has been said. What if I tell you that I have tracked every trail you've left when you first left our town, swiveling from New York, and finally to Brooklyn? You should know. You haven't escaped my sight since."

 "I never asked for that," counters the blonde who has yet to hold back his impatience and intense eagerness. He swears silently in a way that's almost above a whisper when he feels a pair of eyes burning the side of his head. "I wanted to know who you are, and if you don't tell me this very moment, a trigger can surely be pulled tonight."

 "How can you, if you are quite unable to see my identity through this thick dark light?"

 "Then reveal yourself to me."

 Without hesitation, the man steps out of the dark shadows and the rays of light falling through the drapes cascade down his face, illuminating his broad figure as he quirks a playful smirk in the blonde's direction.

 When Luke catches the sight, his eyes widen as his mouth fell agape, taking in the dreadful figure of the man standing before him. And it's like the earth's rotation has come to an abrupt halt and the world falls from its orbit when the memories that were once vented at the back of his mind came flooding out, wrapping his mind in delusional thoughts that he couldn't quite comprehend at the moment.

"Who _are_ you?" Luke questions again, this time sounding a little bit more aggressive. It takes him some time to progress everything that's coming in her way, to actually let those thoughts sink in so he could finally study the look of accomplishment on the man's face. There's something with the man that intrigues Luke. Something that he can't quite lay a finger on and that frustrates him the most. Another smirk is sent in his direction and this time Luke thinks that maybe he could probably spare a second to drop the gun and coax the living hell out of this man. Or maybe he just wants to know his identity.

It seems like there's a string attached from his broad shoulders to the man's edgy expanse of his hips because it feels as if he knows him, but he just can't remember who, and he can't remember where he's seen him, and he really wants to know because this man is looking at him like he's going to eat him alive any second now and that's just really weird and strange for some reason.

And all of a sudden, it hits him hard in the head like a ton of bricks.

Michael Clifford.

He stops dead in her tracks when he starts trudging towards the man. _Of course_ it has to be Michael Clifford, the world's largest homicidal maniac that could hold nearly a dozen of pistols when it comes to shooting.

Luke feels shivers run up to his spine when the flashes of two high school dropouts enter a certain warehouse around the school's curb and memories of their first kill during that foggy night after _Halloween 2010_ came flooding through his mind like a tidal wave finally hitting the shore.

And of all people in the whole world, it had to be him to show up inside Luke's apartment in the middle of the night.

"Michael?" Luke squinted as his own shaky voice floats into his ears. He holds onto the gun once again and tries to keep his glare illuminated through the darkness.

"It's me," answers the man stepping out of the shadows. He takes a good five steps before he was finally able to reveal himself to those confused eyes of a befuddled young man. Luke sees Michael moving towards his direction but it only makes him clutch onto the gun somehow abruptly. "We meet once again, Luke."

A devilish smile forms on his face. 

"What do you want from me?" Luke queers the man frantically and starts making quick steps backwards as Michael advances towards his small and fragile figure.

Much to his dismay and his unfortunate attempts to sneak away and escape him, Luke feels the broad expanse of his back touch the concrete walls and in that moment, he knew nothing was turning out good. Michael had already pinned his hands on both sides of his waist to keep him in place and all he could do was grip onto the gun a little bit tighter.

"I want your existence," says Michael with a low chuckle, head ducking down to keep in level with Luke's hesitant glare. He laughs slightly at the look of terror smeared across Luke's facial features. "I want your dignity, your _innocence_."

 Michael lowers his hands to keep in line with Luke's hips and places a grip around his waist. His chartreuse eyes shifted to stare right into Luke's as he keeps his voice low.

 "I want your body." Michael breathes out raspily and Luke's sure that he's been alarmed before anything else happens. However, Michael is smart enough, or somewhat, quite perceptive that he decides to duck his head again to press his lips against the shell of Luke's ear.

 In an incredulously swift movement Luke pulls out the pistol from where it was hidden behind his back and points it at Michael's chest without him knowing about the piece of bronze pressed onto his body. There's too much happening altogether at once. The arrival of Michael Clifford, his unexpected will to use Luke's existence as a lab rat or something, and the irresistible sudden urge to finally give a shot to kill him.

 Maybe he didn't want those things. Maybe he really didn't. So he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger, not anymore caring of what the world would have against him after he's done all of this.

 He missed.

 "You missed," Michael chuckles darkly and a distressed gasp emits from the blonde's mouth. His hand loosens its grip around the pistol and allows it to fall to the ground; the piece of bronze finally coming in contact with the floor once his body turned weak and everything he held just dropped to the ground.

 Michael watches the movement and Luke just continues to leave his mouth slightly ajar. He missed. For the very first time in his life, he's missed a target, and it definitely does not feel nice.

 Luke's at a loss for words and he's plainly dumbfounded. Usually, after he's done blotting out the crimson dripping from the gun nuzzle, he's loud and content, the grin that always seems to etch across his lips is victoriously evident.

 This time, however, is ever so different from all the times he's spent in killing and reviving lost documents and funds secluded inside the grayscale cases of the victims. He's unsuccessful and very much ashamed. Ashamed because there isn't any blood to wipe off the nuzzle, there isn't any cash to steal, and the single victim he's left to kill isn't even lying on the floor, lifeless as he has expected. 

 He's so out of luck. 

 "Such a shame, Luke." The green-eyed boy purrs against the shell of Luke's ear as he tightens his grasp onto the blonde's waist. The sudden movement causes him to flinch away but he's still very much unable to move within Michael's grasp. "You're unable to kill me." 

 There's something that nudges Luke and suddenly he remembers how to move again. He extends out his arms in front of him and shoves the person away from his path. As Michael began to back away, lifting both of his arms up in mock surrender, Luke's eyes go in search for the pistol until he finds it located under the small coffee table. 

 "Go ahead and try to hit me with that," taunts the man standing from behind as he whips his head and finds Michael smirking at him in a challenging way. Luke figures Michael must've noticed his sudden determination to reuse the gun on him. 

 Desperately, he rushes towards the gun and reaches it with his own outstretched arm. Once he gets a tight grip around it, he gets onto his own feet and stands erect, hands now pointing the pistol in Michael's direction as he starts to slip his index finger around the trigger. 

 Michael flashes a toothed grin and keeps his hands plastered onto the side of his head. Luke tries to close his eyes and tries to imagine killing someone he hasn't known for half of his life because it seems like he doesn't want to kill the person he was with during that night when he first pulled the trigger.  

Then without any notice, a bullet dashes out of the nuzzle and flicks itself against the glass windows hovered over by thin drapes. 

 He misses again. 

 "Nice try," snickers Michael, who still has two arms raised above his head. Luke hisses out of frustration. "You'll still fail nevertheless." 

 He refused to listen. 

 He pulls the trigger again and the loud click of the gun echoes across the room. This makes the blonde close his eyes for a second, just to block his own view of the person he has intended to kill, and for a short period of time, all he hears is silence. The silence is louder than anything just before he opened his eyes and saw the same man standing on the same position once again.

  _No_ , just no.

 "Oh, for God's sake, just let the guy get shot already!" Luke snarls and pulls the trigger again; however, the intense and uncontrollable shaking of his hands becomes quite impossible for him to get under control. He pulls it again and shoots, shoots, and shoots because he just wants to kill, kill, and _kill_. But then he misses every target and decides to cry out, "Please, just let him die!" 

 But Michael doesn't die. He never does, and he doesn't know when he ever will. He just likes to rake his eyes over the sight of this gorgeous boy striving to end his life; which most likely wouldn't happen and he's still grateful for that. He hopes he doesn't mind being watched, though. He's too caught up in watching him shoot and miss every time and he thinks that maybe, he'll want him this way.

 Though Luke doesn't notice how much time he's spent in trying to kill Michael, he still waits for him to choke out a small chuckle and say, "Like what I said, you'll never get to kill me." 

And Luke thinks that maybe, he never will.

 *** 

"No! I would never in my life work with a homicidal maniac like him!" Luke screeches out a little too deafening, voice loud and defensive. He stands up on her feet in front of the three men and glares at them.

Ashton heaves out an exasperated sigh probably for the hundredth time that day and returns the glare, "Why do you have to be such a termagant and not let this skillful man be regarded as the surrogate for your job?"

"Because," Luke breathes out and pauses to look at them straight in the eye, "I don't need him, and I certainly wouldn't want him." And he thinks maybe he sounded moronic and dumb, judging by the snort that Calum emits from the side.

"That's not a reason, Luke." he says boldly, a disapproving look forming on his face. Maybe he too, did think that Luke's quite nonsensical at this very moment. But Calum's a great guy and a great boss with a great killer that could expertly hit a target 35 meters away, and he just wants to feel no malice toward him. "And Michael's still coming with you."

"What?" the blonde rushes out. "No!"

"You have no reason to terminate Calum's decision." Ashton says from the couch.

Luke whines miserably and tries to protest, "but he... he molested me!"

"Excuse me," Michael scoffs, noticeably offended. He sits up from where he was practically sitting on the couch and gives Luke an offended look. "That was a dimwitted act of confrontation. What more could you possibly want?"

Luke doesn't over think to ignore him. He narrows his eyes at him, which only got Michael to respond with an exaggerated eye roll. Now for Luke, it feels like everyone's putting a weight on her shoulders. Then it might not be something, but it _is_ something for him that the guy just kept on getting on his nerves that it's already becoming a little too much.

"As I was saying," Calum clears his throat once he manages to suspect the silent quarrel happening in the small distance created between the two. "Both of you are going to have to search for the funds of this man and afterwards, you'll know what you're supposed to do." he finishes and hands them out a picture of a middle-aged man.

Luke groans out loudly and pulls Michael with him toward the door, finally accepting defeat and dragging him out into his world filled with thrills and ecstatic crimes.

***

"This place is really huge."

"Yeah, just like your ego."

Luke feels Michael give him an aggravated look once he says this. They've been like this since they arrived in the suspected house in Boerum Hills, insulting and offending each other in the most senseless ways whether by appearance, or just by their small competition of who's got the smallest brain and such.

They're just that easy to get acquainted with each other, really.

There's a long stretch of silence that hovers over the atmosphere just before Michael decides to voice out the thoughts lingering inside his head. "Why does it seem like you despise me?"

Luke's taken off-guard by his sudden question that he happened to whirl his head and turn to him with an empathizing look. "I don't." he answers flatly.

"Yeah, you do," Michael says in a non-accusatory tone, keeping his head hung low. Then in that moment, Michael just looked so small, like Luke needed to rub comforting circles on his back but decided against that when he says once again, "You know, I still remember when I met you in high school."

The boy said that with a small chuckle and Luke remains looking at him with a smile plastered on his face. Michael looks up from the floor and gives Luke a slight grin. "You hit that darn target on your first ever shot. In all honesty, you seemed so awesome back there."

That makes Luke break into a wide grin and Michael knows that maybe, he might have hit a soft spot that Luke's been hiding. "I left for a couple of years and came back to see you and just..." he pauses to give Luke a look that he couldn't read and continued, "You're just so amazing and all."

"Shut up." he says as he feels the heat spreading on his cheeks.

The out of the blue, there are sirens alarming from where they suspected, which is at the front yard, and the blue and red rays of light passing through the thick drapes illuminate the darkness spread across the room.

Luke's heart stops beating for a split second just as the thought of being caught and arrested in the middle of the crime they're supposed to be making floats into his mind. Someone pulls his arm and drags him across the room where they were secured and hidden, but Luke just didn't have the strength to look up and see who that someone was.

His mind is lost in the strong waves of dread and nervousness. He tries to keep breathing, tries to think of _something_ that would miraculously stop them from getting caught. At some point he wishes that someone would have to fall from the sky and liberate them from any suspicion. But he knows it would never happen.

"Luke, listen to me!" someone calls out, but his ears are too numb to let a single sound through. "Luke, you have to listen, come on!"

He thinks if this could be the end, because maybe it is and he's just too scared and hesitant to admit it. Someone once again is touching him, this time with both hands on the side of his head, and it's like he's trying to revive Luke from the small panic attack he's bound to have. But Luke doesn't budge, though, and he just stirs in his subconsciousness as the hands started to pull him closer.

Someone presses their lips against his in an abrupt movement and for a moment, it felt like Luke's world stopped turning. It felt like everyone surrounding them had frozen in their places and there was nobody else in this world except for the both of them.

Someone bites his bottom lip and suddenly he remembers how to move again. He presses his lips harder against his in response to what he had done earlier, and what got back was something he would never regret of having.

The feeling of his tongue finally meeting his own brings sparks of shock rush through his body, what with waves of ecstasy and thrill washing over his mind. Luke pulls away from the kiss and sees something that he'll never want to forget.

A pair of chartreuse-green eyes are staring right back at his own, with swollen lips curving up into a shy and sheepish smile. Michael is looking at him with the fondness masking his eyes, and he knew very well that he could have been staring at him in the same way.

In that moment, Luke knew they were lost in their own world. He didn't care about the loud knocks of the police by the other side of the door, nor did he ever care about the guns pointing directly at them through the glass windows. He just knew that he's never felt so safe before in someone's arms, and that he knew that it was always going to be _Michael and Luke_  against the world filled with thrills and ecstatic crimes.

***

"Fuck, are you okay?" Michael asks the blonde when they're finally in a place that's supposedly safe and hidden. He sounds out of breath when they get there, and Luke does too, but they've been running for what feels like forever and Luke slightly hopes that it isn't just because of the running that they've done.

Michael looks up from where he's heaving heavily on the wall and stares at Luke who's leaning against the window. "Hey, you okay?"

"We almost got caught," Luke whispers, voice sounding so shattered. Michael forces himself to get up from the floor and takes cautious steps behind the blonde before Luke breaks into a fit of hysterics and raises the gun he has in his hands. "We almost got caught, for christ's sake!"

"Hey!" Michael grabs the blonde's waist and pulls, bringing their bodies together once more, catching Luke so off-guard with the same lips colliding with his.

Michael kisses him, long and deep, enough to let the blonde's voice die inside his throat. Carefully, he takes Luke's hands and grabs the gun, allowing it to fall to the ground. Michael detaches himself from Luke before pushing them both to the nearest wall and securing his hands on the blonde's waist.

Luke continues kissing back before he feels Michael pull out from the kiss and breathe against his lips. A pair of the same eyes lock with his own and Luke swears he sees something in them that he's never seen before.

"Are you okay?" Michael questions again, his voice soft.

"Yeah."

And Luke hopes that he will be, throughout the rest of his journey, now that he's got Michael by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that didn't suck too much lmao. I wrote this last November and I thought about uploading it here. Anyway, I have a new Bali oneshot coming soon and it's obviously muke (I only write muke) so keep updated on that! I'm sure you guys would love it :)


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